


The Perplexities of Strange Pretenses

by TheFlyingHairPin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Awkwardness, Coming of Age, F/M, Gen, Humor, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlyingHairPin/pseuds/TheFlyingHairPin
Summary: Growing up is never easy, especially during those awkward moments when your Yule Ball date would step all over your feet during the slow dance or when you're now forever in debt to your brother for naming their owl "Pigwidgeon." Throw in a few nargles, a sadistic DADA teacher, a Dark Lord on the rise, and you have Ginny's very perplexing account of the year 1995.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Fireside Chats

Ginny wouldn’t describe herself as a tough girl. Tough girls didn’t need others’ acceptance; they carved their own path in the world, facing difficult obstacles with strength and vindication. There were no obstacles in her life: she had a large, close-knit family whom she loved, she was a pureblood in a war-torn world of secrets and lies — a privilege not many possessed. No one was after her; no one wanted her dead or exiled or trapped, maybe with the exception of Romilda Vane. 

And yet, she still had to fight every urge to pull out a notebook and write out detailed passages of the loneliness and isolation brewing up in the depths of her more disgusting ideas; an emptiness akin to feeling forgotten, lost in a world of secret missions and Aurors and people much funnier and smarter and talented than she, an ickle, melodramatic fourteen-year-old, would ever be. Maybe this was what Ron felt like; maybe it was just some weird fourth-year Weasley thing. 

She often found herself lying awake at night, gazing at the smoothly crafted shadows flickering off the windowsill, wondering what would happen if she was able to resist Tom’s invasion, or if she could’ve found out and saved the day all by herself instead of lying around like an idiot and waiting for Harry to come rescue. She wondered what would happen if she was just more intelligent like Hermione was, or even more social and street-smart like Fred and George. 

She resented Harry at times. Most of her mind was reasonably sensible, usually succeeding in affectively gnawing the feelings of abandonment down, but sometimes it was too much, and she’d have to lock herself in the attic to viciously kill them, leaving a strong taste of self-loathing behind, often feeling like she’d eaten dirt for dinner. 

Harry saved her life. He faced ostracization for something he didn’t do. He almost died at least once a year. He had bars on his window when Ron and the twins went to save him. A crazy megalomaniac now wanted him dead and every newspaper outlet was calling him and Dumbledore a pair of looney lunatics. 

Ginny was an idiot. She was a complete and utter idiot and would like nothing more than to hit her head repeatedly at the wall of Diagon Alley and knock out all of the asinine ideas floating around in her stupid brain. 

But no one would ever forget him. The world wouldn’t fail to remember his sharp green eyes or the lightning-shaped scar marking his forehead, or how we won the Triwizard tournament at age fourteen, or how he was the youngest seeker of the century. Ron wouldn’t forget to send Harry a long-winded letter about something or the other with an elaborately wrapped present, her mum wouldn’t forget to bake a sixteen-tier cake and stuff him with treacle tart. Nobody would forget his birthday, not like they forgot hers. 

Stupid. Everything was stupid. She was really stupid, so stupid that she was wallowing in self-pity instead of doing her chores like everyone else. 

Two days ago was her birthday. Everyone forgot. It was two days ago; she should get over it. It wasn’t like her parents could get her anything else she’d need, what with the already too large assortment of cobalt Christmas jumpers and chocolate she had hoarded into her trunk. 

She used to wish her Mum wasn’t so attentive all the time, back then when she’d buy Ginny all sorts of elaborate dresses and hairpins and make sure everyone had enough to eat. She’d gotten her wish, so she should shut up now. 

She was the antithesis of a tough girl, more of a pathetic wet blanket if anything. Everyone else was downstairs, eating dinner and behaving like functional human beings, but she still couldn’t bring herself to lift the heavy covers off and trudge downstairs to the cheerful voices and mirthful laughter, every one of Fred and George’s shouts like a stab to her ears and her ever-lasting cycle of self-loathing thoughts and behaviors. She scowled and closed the pillow over her head, feeling a bubble of irritation spiral around her. 

“Tired of this bloody house already?” 

Ginny could almost hear the smirk in the voice, and although a part of her brightened up considerably at hearing one of Tonks’ trademark quips, she responded by pulling the covers over her head. 

“Tired,” she groaned groggily, silently hoping that Tonks won’t try to step over the whirlwind of things sprawled across her floor from trying to pack for Hogwarts ahead of time. Tonks simply grinned at Ginny’s moodiness and hopped over to where Ginny was trying to drown in her misery. 

“Someone’s a Moody-Judy,” Tonks chuckled lightly, her hair turning the same shade as Ginny’s bright red hair. She took a seat on Ginny’s bed, twiddling with one of the Gryffindor scarves draped on a bedpost. “I thought that was Harry’s role — what, suddenly with Harry being cleared you’re going to replace the role of the ‘sulker?’” 

“I’m not sulking,” Ginny murmured irritably. “I’m just tired. What are you doing here anyways?”

Tonks shrugged noncommittally. “It’s boring without you,” she responded. “Besides, I haven’t seen you all week. There’s only so many Mrs. Weasley vs Dung fight sessions a bloke can take,” she said. “Now I’m curious, what are you doing here? No, wait! Lemme guess. Boy troubles!”

Ginny abruptly pushed the covers off her and scrambled to sit. “No!” she retorted loudly, her cheeks instinctively turning a light shade of red. “I told you, I’m just tired!”

“Well, you don’t look so tired now,” Tonks observed pointedly, her nose morphing into a pig snout. Ginny couldn’t help but snort and the Auror sniggered along. 

“It’s alright Ginny, no need to be embarrassed,” Tonks said sagely, raising a hand to stop Ginny’s protests. She raised an eyebrow coyly, “Hmm… who’s giving Gin-Gin boy trouble, is it… Harry?” 

Ginny’s eyes widened, and she started to splutter in indignation. “Wha— no! I don’t like him — why does everyone think I—? Well, you’re one to talk, what with you being all coy and flirty with Professor Lup—”

“That’s not true!” Tonks responded in a squeaky voice, her cheeks slowly turning a deep shade of red as light green tinged the tips of her hair. “I was not being coy, we were having a polite conversation—”

“If you call repeatedly touching his shoulder and batting your eyelashes polite, then sure, you’re the politest person I know,” Ginny said dryly, a grin setting on her features. “Bill told me Aurors had to pass all their examinations to become certified… I’m guessing you bribed the Veritaserum administrator?”

“I did no such thing!” Tonks said indignantly. Ginny raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah sure.” 

Tonks rolled her eyes and flopped her head on one of the pillows, stretching out her arms and legs. “See, this is why I missed you. You’re just too fun to make fun of,” she said, pulling one of Ginny’s cheeks. But then, straight away, the mirth fell from her face and she looked oddly serious now. “Listen, just… please come back downstairs. I… I need your advice on something.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose and gave a bemused look to Tonks. What kind of advice could she give to a highly-qualified Order member? “What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously. “Is this about Professor Lupin? Tonks, again I—”

“No, no it’s not about that,” Tonks said hurriedly, looking around as if someone was listening in. 

Ginny gawked at Tonks; one minute she was being all sarcastic and funny, and now she was acting as if they were conducting a secret Order meeting themselves. 

“Well, why didn’t you just lead with that, instead of being all weird about me being up—”

“For once can you just not ask any questions?” Tonks whispered harshly. 

Ginny, still gazing up at Tonks suspiciously, pulled a face but slowly climbed out of her bed and put on her slippers anyway, not bothering to straighten out her ruffled clothes. Nobody here was normal. 

They crept through the hallways successfully, this time not managing to wake up any of the portraits, but when they reached the bottom staircase, Tonks finally had her well-awaited bout of clumsiness and tumbled down the staircase, letting out a chorus of sounds. 

“Tonks!” Ginny exclaimed, quickly descending down the stairs to find Tonks in an inelegant heap on the floor, a crowd gathering around to help her up. 

“I’m aight, I’m aight — thanks Remus,” she took Lupin’s hand and let him help her up, a series of small smiles being exchanged between them. Ginny wrinkled her nose; it was weird seeing Tonks all lovesick. 

It was a casual night in the parlor basement; a few Orders stayed over and a gathering of adults, with the exception of Sirius, who was talking to the twins and Dung, and Lupin, who was still exchanging amorous glances with Tonks, sat around the blazing fire. Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren’t far from the others, but they seemed to be in very deep conversation. 

Crookshanks was in the corner with a few butterbeer corks, watching everyone with a disdainful yellow eye. 

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that,” Tonks approached Ginny, leading her into a corner of the room. She sat on one of the tarnished green armchairs, so different from the bright, plump furniture back at the burrow. 

“What is it Dora?” Ginny asked. Tonks sighed and looked around again, her spiky purple hair slowly losing its volume.

“Listen, I’m asking you this… because, well, I’m not really sure how the other members of your family would take it,” Tonks said, looking around nervously again. “I thought you should know… what’s going on.”

Ginny was about to open her mouth to ask what in Merlin’s name was she going on about, but before she could say anything, Tonks, throwing one last furtive glance at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, swiftly reached out a newspaper under one of the couch cushions and dropped it on Ginny’s lap.

“I know your folks canceled your Daily Prophet subscription,” Tonks said lamely, “But I think you should um… read it. If you want to, that is.” She reached over and flipped the first few pages of the newspaper and pointed to a mini-article in the corner of the newspaper. 

Ginny looked up at Tonks, who looked like she wanted to melt through the floor, and then suspiciously back down at the paper. She widened her eyes as she skimmed through the words, her sights landing on a small photo of Percy posing for a photograph with Fudge. 

Percy Weasley: A Paragon of the New Generation

On June 2nd of 1995, newly graduated Percy Weasley became the New Junior Assistant to Minister Cornelius Fudge: a testament to the Ministry’s stance against the propaganda and false rumors spread to cause unrest throughout the Wizarding World. Freshly out of Hogwarts with twelve N.E.W.T.s and the highest scores in all subjects, Mr. Weasley was always destined for great things, but what exactly was it that made him stand out in a sea of just as qualified applicants?

“I believe in the truth,” Mr. Weasley said in an interview with Ms. Barbara Steinfield. “And the conspicuous truth of the matter is that Dumbledore isn’t fit to run the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not when he is running around supporting a juvenile delinquent’s claims and causing fear and pandemonium across the Wizarding World. I simply cannot allow that.”

Despite his poor background and family influences growing up, Mr. Weasley managed to shape himself into a fine young man and stand with the Minister, who is currently trying to reshape the Wizarding World and clear the turbulence caused by the disturbing rumors of a few select individuals. 

Percy Weasley is paving the way for the new generations to come, leaving important marks behind. In my humble opinion, Minister Cornelius Fudge could not make a better choice in choosing a new assistant and role model to live up to. 

Written by Penelope Clearwater, Junior correspondent of the Daily Prophet

A stir of emotions rose up in Ginny, from indignation at the words “juvenile delinquent” to sheer anger at “poor background influences,” but at the end, when she read off Penelope Clearwater’s name she could only imagine Percy attached at the lips with the prim and proper seventh year Ravenclaw and had to stifle a loud snort. Her condition was only worsened when Percy tried to put an arm around Fudge in the tiny photograph and felt herself silently giggling. 

“He looks so stupid,” Ginny chortled, completely forgetting her previous offenses with Penelope Clearwater’s interpretation of the Weasleys’ childhood. “Even in the bloody photos.” 

Tonks, however, looked slightly perturbed instead, waiting for Ginny to stop giggling. “Look,” she said in a hushed tone. “I know how touchy this Percy-topic is to your family. Nowadays, the ministry is posting nothing but useless nonsense about sightings of made-up creatures and all, and this is the first political driven article I’ve seen in days. I—”

“We already knew about the promotion,” Ginny interrupted, waving her off. “That’s why he left, actually. Minister Fudge would’ve fired him if he didn’t think my brother would be able to able to spy on his ‘traitorous family,’” she put quotations around the last two words, “but it seems like he’s just too stupid to see that.” 

Tonks sighed in relief. “I didn’t want to bring this up with your parents, seeing how your mum is right now.” 

Ginny nodded noncommittally, sneaking a glance at Harry, who was laughing with Ron and Hermione. Tonks examined her with knowing eyes. 

“He’ll come around, Red,” she said with a wise smile, her expression resembling Dumbledore’s equivocal face for a short moment. Ginny whirled around and huffed, sinking deeper into the armchair.

“I don’t want him to come around,” she mumbled irritably, this time not bothering to turn red. It was the truth; she didn’t have a crush anymore nor did she want to be noticed by him. 

“Well, I know you feel something for him,” Tonks said, raising her eyebrows, her hair now rolling down her shoulders in purple waves. 

Ginny put a hand through her hair and sighed. She hated to admit it, but Tonks was right, only in the wrong area. She did feel something, but it was unfortunately along the lines of wounding jealousy rather than the giddy feeling of a schoolgirl crush, especially after the last two days. The weird thing was that she didn’t feel spiteful nor malevolent towards him; she still found him admirable — really, really admirable — and thought he was pretty great in his own Harry-way. It was a trickle of odd fascination and anger that came when Harry flashed through Ginny’s mind even despite barely knowing him that compelled her to shoot glances at him when she thought no one was looking and made her feel irrevocably stupid. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted in a small voice, feeling exposed and uncomfortable despite it being Tonks she was talking to. “It… it’s not a crush or anything. I don’t want to be his… ya know, girlfriend or anything,” her cheeks heated up at the last few words, “I just… don’t know.” 

Tonks sighed and smiled, placing her hand over Ginny’s. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. You got the rest of your life to figure your feelings out.” She gave Ginny a smile, which Ginny half-heartedly reciprocated.

“Well, I think it’s time for bed. Thanks for dinner Molly, absolutely delicious,” one of the Order members, Kingsley Shacklebolt, said, slowly standing up and walking about. A few yawns spread across the room, with her Mum standing up and leading a few of the members out the back door as quick goodbyes were being exchanged. 

Tonks yawned loudly, stretching out her arms. “Well, I better get going. Wouldn’t want to stay out too late, especially nowadays,” she said jovially, pulling Ginny in for a quick hug. “Remember what I said, have fun! You’re only… thirteen? How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” Ginny replied instantly, feeling the edges of her mouth quirk up into a grin. 

“Ah, yes, fourteen! I knew that… well, I’ll see ya later Gin!” 

Ginny grinned and waved back, feeling far lighter than she had thirty minutes ago. 

“You know what Ron?! If you don’t want to be a member of S.P.E.W, fine! See if I care that you’re watching slavery happen before your very eyes and not batting an eye!” Hermione blurted out, instantly standing up. Everyone turned their heads toward her, who looked close to tears. 

Ron looked flabbergasted. “They like what they do, Hermione! Why should I get in the way of that?”

“They’ve been brainwashed! You saw how Mr. Crouch treated poor Winky—”

“What the bloody hell does that have to do with anything? If anything, Crouch set Winky free, isn’t that what you wanted?”

There was an awkward moment of silence with all eyes on Ron and Hermione, Harry sitting awkwardly on one of the couches between them. Finally noticing all the attention, Hermione’s face flushed and for a moment she was frozen to the ground before hastily gathering a few books and indignantly stomping out of the parlor. Ron followed a moment later, muttering about spew and the bloody house-elves. 

There was another beat of silence before a large chunk of the Order hastily apparated out, quickly exchanging goodbyes and thank-yous for the food. 

Ginny looked over at Harry, who seemed to be engrossed in the fire, and another bout of the dirt-tasting muddle of emotions resurfaced. Rolling her eyes, she walked over and slumped on the couch, closing her eyes at the intensity of the flames.

“So, er, did Ron say something stupid again?” She asked, carelessly gesticulating to the small door in which both Ron and Hermione made their dramatic exits. Half a moment passed before Harry, finally snapped out of his reverie, quickly blinked, and looked at Ginny with a blank stare. 

“Er, sorry, did you say something?”

Ginny raised her eyebrows in amusement at his frazzled look. “Did Ron say something stupid to Hermione again? Ya know, during that entire… thing,” she finished lamely.

Harry shrugged, “Er, yeah… something about house-elves and slavery and all, I’m not sure.”

Ginny tilted her head and pulled a pillow onto her lap. “Maybe,” she muttered, tracing its ornate designs with her fingertips. “Though I don’t think their fights are really fair. Hermione’s a bit too articulate when it comes to these things and Ron pretty much leaves his brain behind for everything but chess.” 

Harry snorted. “Yeah, he can be like that,” he said, this time a bit less distant. 

“At this rate, it’ll take half a century for them to figure out that they like each other,” she said casually, stifling a giggle. This caught Harry’s attention. 

“L-Like each other?” He said confusedly. “As in… like each other?” 

Ginny shrugged. “I mean, they argue a lot but get over it pretty quick. And then they do that weird blushing thing—”

“—They don’t blush,” Harry interjected hastily. “I mean, I don’t think they — well, I…” he trailed off, looking perturbed. 

Ginny gaped at him for a good few seconds before fighting back laughter. This time he was the flustered one. 

“Well, I suppose it’s time for bed,” Her Mum announced as soon as the last person apparated out, shooting a pointed look at Fred, George, and Sirius, who were still huddled together in the corner. 

“Yes Mum,” George said, an evasive smirk spreading over his face. Mrs. Weasley huffed and rolled her eyes, and Ginny got up, not even slightly sorry for Harry’s troubled expression as he imagined his two best friends snogging.

She smirked; revenge was best served cold anyway.


	2. Letters

_ Dear Ginny,  _

_ Happy birthday! Sorry for the delay, Bertie was a bit angry with me this past week for making him fly out to Spain to send Terry a letter through the big storm, but it only took a couple hundred mice to get him to come around. Luckily my cousin Danny works in the owl emporium and was able to nick a few stuff for us. I even added a few toys for your owl, Pig, right? Don’t worry, I promise I didn’t just give a bunch of stolen mangy merchandise. It took me ages to get this, but I think you’ll like it.  _

_ It’s pretty different here in Costa Rica than back home. Here, the schools are local in tiny buildings and everyone goes back home by two o’clock. I wish it was like that in Hogwarts instead of Sinistra dragging us up to the Astronomy at bloody one in the morning and Snape holding us hostage all night for detention. If it weren’t for him, then I probably would’ve gotten on the quidditch team second year — hell, I bet he probably got rejected every year and is just sour about that. Even the Slytherins probably wouldn’t accept that slimy git.  _

_ But anyways, life is going pretty slow right now. Mam’s been right worried about the ministry, what with the crazy rumors flying around and one of her coworkers — that journalist reporting on the Triwizard Tournament, Rita Skeeter I think — randomly going missing. Dad believes Dumbledore’s behind everything — the old chap’s been going a bit berserk lately — but Mam thinks he’s been brainwashed. It’s kinda a shame really; he actually used to be pretty cool.  _

_ It’s good that you’re visiting your brother in Egypt for the summer. England’s a real bloody mess right now, but at least this year the Ministry’s hiring the new DADA teacher instead of Dumbledore again. I don’t think I can handle another Lockhart.  _

_ Well, I got to go now, my Mam’s calling me for dinner — a few locals are coming over and she really wants to impress them. Can’t wait to see you — and well, I know this isn’t really a thing you ask over a bloody letter, but well, maybe we could catch a trip to Hogsmeade? You’re really cool, Ginny, and although I like a bit of a git writing this out, I really, really like you. _ _   
  
_

_ I know this is kinda out of the blue considering how we haven’t talked all summer, but I’ve been thinking about all hols.  _

_ Of course, take your time responding, and well, I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks. Again, happy birthday!  _

_ -Michael  _

Ginny clutched the starchy paper in her left hand, an influx of formulating responses jumbling her up as she quickly read and reread the letter over and over. A part of her wanted to scowl and write a curtly decline Michael’s offer at the mentions of Dumbledore going “beserk,” but as Michael’s tan skin and handsome smile flashed through her mind, she found her vindictiveness slipping and a warm, giddy feeling burgeoning. 

She didn’t know how he knew it was her birthday; they spoke a few times in small crowds either during quick meals or Hogsmeade trips and even bid their goodbyes before the summer holidays. It made her feel slightly guilty about how he thought about her over the summer when she completely forgot he existed, but now, she didn’t even have it in herself to care about his stance on the Ministry. He was also really funny now that she thought about it. Really, really funny. And handsome too, now that a clearer picture was coming into view. 

She tossed aside the letter and grabbed the package, tearing through the parchment with a big, stupid grin. But as she sliced right through the middle of the package, at least five things fell out in a continuous succession. 

A few ratty old stuffed mice rained down, making soft squeaking sounds as they hit the floor, but that wasn’t all. Ginny picked up a few packets of “Nahua Chocolate.”   
  


_ Costa Rica’s leading brand of fine artisan chocolate _

Ginny smirked; this made good bribery material against the twins. But even that wasn’t what caught her attention. A large, wooden carved box sat in the halo of crumpled parchment, the header  _ “A GUIDE TO MAKING SURE YOUR BROOM STAYS IN TIP-TOP CONDITION” _ etched out in loopy, golden letters. 

She carefully slid the kit open, an arrangement of oils, materials, and instructions placed carefully in small compartments slowly springing out. Smiling, she plucked a container out and twisted the cap open, a beam of sunlight refracting through the transparent liquid. 

She sighed contentedly and giggled again, feeling giddy all over again. She couldn’t for the life of her understand why Michael would send all of this just for her, but all that mattered to Ginny was someone actually remembered her birthday. 

A shuffling of footsteps broke Ginny out of her reverie and the door burst open to an exuberant Hermione. Her thick hair was tousled into a careless braid and her brown eyes sparkled in the incandescent beams of light. 

“Ginny,” she gasped, beaming widely, “Come downstairs, your mum is looking for you.” Her expression only slightly faltered at the whirlwind of stuff strewn out across her side of the room, but she nonetheless looked utterly delighted.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow and leaped up to her feet, hastily stashing the envelope and presents beneath her bed and shuffling out the door.

“I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!” Her mother’s shrill voice echoed through the floor. Ginny raised an eyebrow; how the plot turned. 

“What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?” George yawped indignantly as Ginny and Hermione entered the musty bedroom. 

Ginny snorted as her Mum pushed the twins aside and threw her arms around Fred and George, peppering his face with kisses as Fred and Geroge made loud retching sounds in the background. 

“Wait until your father hears! Ron, I’m so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, I — Ginny? Where have you been!? I’ve been looking for you all over!”    
  


Mrs. Weasley quickly let go of Ron and rounded up on Ginny as soon as she noticed her presence. “Booklists have come in, your things are on the kitchen table downstairs — Oh, and I also need you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go clean the attic, it’s absolutely filthy,” she blathered on. Ron shot her a dirty for reminding Mrs. Weasley of all their chores, which Ginny wholeheartedly reciprocated. 

“Oh, but  _ Ronnie,  _ I’m just so proud — Oh what a thing to have in the middle of all this worry,” she threw her arms around him again, and Ron, who turned a brighter shade of scarlet than his badge, started mumbling to the floor. 

“Mum… don’t… Mum, get a grip,” he said to the floor, trying to push her away. Ginny rolled her eyes; now her Mum probably expected  _ her  _ to get chosen for prefect too. 

“...Oh, I’m all of a dither!” She gave another sloppy kiss, and with a loud sniff, bustled from the room. Ginny groaned miserably, the weight of the thousand more expectations to deal with now burgeoning on her shoulders along with her brewing boy troubles and the absolute mess waiting for her back in her room.

She ignored the others’ tittering and quietly slinked out of the room, feeling a twisting headache come on. 

It was odd how stark the contrast between Ginny and Hermione’s sides of the stagnant old bedroom was. Hermione had been preparing for Hogwarts for the last two weeks; not even a speck of dust dared to enter her halo of cleanliness. Ginny wished she could say the same about herself, but one look at the books and scarves and quills draped overflowing her desk and bed-post told her that if she didn’t clean up now, she’d probably have to listen to both Hermione  _ and  _ her mother’s lectures. 

However, despite her initial determination, it only took her a few minutes to find the ratty mouse toys and wander right back into Ron’s room.

_ I’ll just drop these out to Ron for and then get right back to cleaning _ , she told herself, also knowing full well of the  _ accidental  _ trip to the kitchen she was planning on taking to raid on the chocolate cake and butterbeer. 

She popped her head through the door. “Ron?” She called out, but instead of finding her bumbling brother, she saw Harry, who was sitting on a twin bed with his gaze fixed to the floor, wearing an unreadable expression. He looked up with a start before twisting his face into a painfully forced smile. 

“Ginny!” He said with far more  _ enthusiasm  _ than anything else she heard from him all summer. “Ron’s not here, he’s talking to Mrs. Weasley down in the kitchen.”    
  


She swore under her breath; it looked like her plans were now ruined. “Thanks,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. She held up the toys in her left hand. “I suppose I’ll just leave them here now.” Harry nodded faintly and thankfully, his phony smile swiftly slipped off. 

Ginny raised her eyebrow and her mouth quirked up. “Y’know,” she started casually. “I think this is the happiest I’ve seen Hermione all summer.” 

Harry stiffened slightly before contorting his face into an odd grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, she deserves—”   
  
“—You know Harry,” Ginny boldly interrupted. “Ron and Hermione do deserve this, but being prefect really doesn’t mean much.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “I'm not  _ jealous _ —”   


“Yeah,  _ sure _ ,” Ginny said good-naturedly. “All I know is that Sirius and Tonks weren’t prefects and Percy was. Oh, in fact,” she pulled out the newspaper clipping from her jumper pocket, grinning mischievously. “Take a look at this.” 

He took his slip of paper hesitantly, and Ginny sniggered as she watched Harry’s vast array of expressions. “Er, well, this is…” He trailed off at the end and tried to school his features, almost as if he was holding back laughter. 

Ginny rolled her eyes and promptly took back the clipping, stuffing it back in her pocket. “Incredibly stupid,” she said shortly. “He was probably the most pompous, proper, and priggish prefect and head boy Hogwarts has ever known, and yet the only way he could get even a tiny one-hundred-word article written about him is if he snogged the  _ Junior Correspondent of the Daily Prophet. _ ” 

Harry let out a bark of laughter sounding eerily like Sirius’ for a moment. “I mean, yeah, but Ron and Hermione aren’t like that,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “They… deserve this.”   
  


“They do,” Ginny agreed. “But being prefect doesn’t mean being better or anything. I think Dumbledore chooses them based on priorities and all. Hermione is already obvious and Ron’s pretty much the classic Hogwarts student.”    
  


Harry nodded his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, yeah I guess,” he said. He gave a small lopsided smile which Ginny returned, idly wondering whether Michael made prefect. 

  
At this point they both heard a pair of footsteps on the stairs. 

“Just caught her!” Ron exclaimed, bursting through the door. “She says I’ll get — what are  _ you  _ doing here?”    
  
Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron’s accusatory tone and threw a fistful of the owl toys. “Those are for Pig,” she explained as Ron shifted through them. 

  
He scoffed. “These ratty old things? What’d you do, go through the rubbish?”

“Like you know about  _ quality _ ,” Ginny retorted snappishly. “And for your information, these are imported from  _ Costa Rica _ . I think  _ you’re _ the one who needs to check their taste.” 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Coming from the one who named  _ my  _ owl bloody  _ Pigwidgeon _ ,” he muttered, putting the toys in his trunk. 

Ginny sniffed disdainfully but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to flip her hair over her shoulder and stalked off, diligently ignoring Harry’s choked-backed laughs. 

_ Stupid, ungrateful Ron _ , she raged, slamming the door. She burst through the doors and, ignoring the large piles of socks dispersed throughout the floor, reached straight for the remains of her birthday packages, snatching the chocolates and shoving them in her pockets. She smiled smugly, thinking of the piles of boxes and prototypes stuffed in Fred and George’s closet. 

Ron wouldn’t know what hit him. 

(X)

“Wonder when dinner will be ready,” Ron, viciously attacking one of the doxies up on the ceiling, grunted. While Mrs. Weasley prepared dinner downstairs, the rest were upstairs in the attic by her orders, but the only ones who were actually cleaning were Hermione, who was smoothly dusting one of the towering empty bookshelves, and inadvertently Ron, who obtusely threw an old scroll at a gang of rebellious doxies and was now facing the dire reactions. Fred and George promptly disappeared within the first five minutes; Sirius and Harry were talking leisurely, sitting on a pile of boxes; and Ginny sat in the corner of the room, taking out all of the antique items deemed safe by the Order and thinking about Michael, whose presence was dangling in the back of her mind. 

Ginny broke out of her trance as Ron spoke, dropping the old mirror back in the boy. “Well,” she started, rummaging through her deep pockets. “If you’re hungry, eat this.” She took out a wrapped custard, looking as fresh and harmless as ever. 

Ron eyed her suspiciously. “Where did you get that from?” He asked hesitantly, still looking at her oddly. 

Ginny shrugged innocently. “Nicked it from the kitchen, but I already have more food in my trunk. Take it or leave it.”    
  
Ron paused for a moment, wearing a rare calculated look Ginny had only ever seen when he was playing chess. He then looked warily up at the ceiling where the doxies had seemed to have retreated temporarily and ran forward, grabbing the custard cream. But before Ron could open the packet, the door burst open to Mrs. Weasley, who wore a satisfied beam. 

“Come on kids, dinner is ready — wait, where are Fred and George?” she asked, her eyes narrowing into two angry slits. Ron sighed in relief and put the canary cream on one of the old boxes before joining Harry, Sirius, and Hermione out the front door. Ginny, who previously was gleefully smirking, frowned and roughly the canary cream back into her jumper, feeling rather disheartened. 

“Oh I swear — When I get my hands on those two!” Mrs. Weasley threw her hands up in the air and stomped out, and Ginny could almost feel another one of her mum’s “responsibility” tirades coming up. 

__

She picked the lid up off the floor and bolted it shut, feeling slightly at the looming mess waiting for her back in her room. Ginny gritted her teeth and got up, almost as if she was walking to her death instead of the party that waited downstairs. But as she started moving to the door, she noticed a slight shuffling noise on the ground, where a tattered piece of paper lay at her shoes. 

Ginny frowned and picked it up, trailing her fingers over the graying blotches. The handwriting was delicate and faded, and there was something in the bleakness of it that made her feel like an intruder in a long-forgotten, personal memory. Squinting her eyes and focusing her vision, she read: 

_ My dear Cissy, _

_ Remind me again to never again let Bella near the Gryffindor halls; this has been the fourth time she has gotten detention for yet again jinxing one of the first-years. I can only hope that you act with more propriety when you’ll be going to Hogwarts in one year’s time.  _

_ Thankfully, the excitement has dwindled down as we’re settling into our routines. I understand Mother’s most likely at Bella’s rashness, but I believe Father will be pleased with her natural gift in potions. She is, yet again, at top of her class, using every Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to do just the opposite. Although I know I must never say this aloud — jealousy is never a good countenance for a lady — but I’m a little envious of her skill. _

_ She has flourished into a great beauty, with a handsome face and striking eyes, although I will expect you will be the greatest charmer of us all when you enter Hogwarts. _

_   
_ _   
_ __ Professor Slughorn has graciously invited Bella and me to his Christmas party, and we will be departing for Hogsmeade in a fortnight to search for dresses. Bella believes she won’t find anything worth wearing, but just two days ago, I was flipping through a catalog and found the most beautiful scarlet robe that I hope will still be available in two weeks’ time. 

_ Although Hogwarts has been wonderful, I still feel slightly saddened that you are not here with us. I can’t wait for you to join us, dear sister, although I am afraid I cannot join the family for Christmas this year. Seventh-year NEWTS are the most pivotal exams there are and I must do everything I can to prepare for them. However, in the meantime, send Cassiopeia and little Sirius my love.  _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Andy  _

“GINNY! WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME IS THIS MESS?!”

Her heart jolted violently at the sound of Mrs. Weasley’s shriek. Taking a shuddered breath, she carelessly stuffed the crumpled letter in her pocket and slowly walked over to the door, already feeling a massive headache building up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I remember around two years ago on Christmas Eve when I was writing another fanfic at the exact same time. I might publish that one as a crackfic, considering just what a trainwreck that one was. I can definitely say that the first fic you’ve written will most likely suck.
> 
> I’m currently listening to Taylor Swift’s new albums while writing this long, rambly author’s note, and it’s a very interesting experience. In fact, I suggest you listen to Folklore and Evermore while reading this; this story has a similar aesthetic. This chapter is quite short, but I think that the following chapters will be less boring than this. Oh, and or anyone who’s wondering, the storyline is roughly canon but a few things might change. I apologize if I may have dramatized the second letter; I always thought that the conservative pureblood society in the 60s probably resembles the vernacular of Pride and Prejudice, but I’m not really sure.
> 
> I’ve decided to take a different approach to Ginny than what I’ve seen before. Even though the only things we know about her in canon is that she likes Quidditch and is outgoing, I’ve developed a strange attachment to her despite us not sharing any real similarities. I don’t think she’s OOC in this, just a bit different. Consider this: for all you MBTI followers (Myers Briggs Personality test, if you don’t know what this is then I highly recommend that you check this out) Ginny is so far an ESTP. At least that is what we can concur with all of the information we have on her so far. But in my fic, I think she starts off as an awkward INFP but then slowly turns into an ENTJ. But then again, what do I know? Sorry for all of you who probably have no idea what I’m talking about, but consider this an opportunity to check out the MBTI test. In fact, why don’t y’all tell your types in the… comments? Reviews? Thanks to those who have followed and favorited, and don’t forget to tell me what you think of… whatever this is! Happy holidays!


	3. Chapter 3

When Ginny was younger, she was absolutely certain that she was a dream seer. After successfully predicting that the Cannons would lose to the Harpies two-forty to fifty in the semifinals — well, the numbers were actually three-hundred to eighty, but the details didn’t matter — she dreamt about Ron running from a giant bug, and two days later, the twins had miraculously transformed his teddy bear into a life-sized spider. After that, there was the incident where she’d turned Percy’s hair green after day-dreaming about finding out she was a witch and going to Hogwarts, which was what really sealed the deal.

But despite all of the old excitement and bragging and begging her mother to enroll her in Madame Hilda’s local divination classes, Ginny could now not wish anything farther from her childhood aspirations. If her dreams were her future, then she might as well grab all her Hogwarts luggage and make a break for America whilst she still could. 

It started out as what seemed to be a Christmas Eve in the living room of the Burrow, only this time the walls were decorated with horseradish and celery instead of the regular paper chains. Michael periodically apparated in thirty-second intervals to hand her bouquets of owl toys before going on long tangents about chocolate and disappearing again; Bill repeatedly shaved his head as her mother lamented over the fallen red locks; Ron and Hermione ate each other’s faces off under the mistletoe as Harry vapidly watched. Then, Cedric Diggory’s corpse dropped from the ceiling and a towering black figure appeared at the doorway and declared himself as Voldemort as a blinding green light flashed through the room.

It happened over and over again on a loop, and by the time Ginny finally woke up, she still felt trapped in the same semi-nightmare, only this time it was Fred and George’s suitcases that led to Ginny’s fall from grace instead of Voldemort. 

“— COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS —” 

Ginny grimaced as Mrs. Weasley inadvertently screamed right into her ear whilst trying to fix her now-broken arm up with a slightly painful healing charm. Fred and George hastily knelt and started to pick up the suitcases and things, mumbling hasty apologies. Ginny rolled her eyes; the only thing they were sorry for was that all their supplies were now sprawled all over the floor waiting to be confiscated. Fortunately for them, Mrs. Weasley was too busy fixing up Ginny’s oddly bent arm to notice Fred and George swiftly gathering up all of their contraband and apparating out, this time with two quiet pops. 

Ginny frowned; she didn’t know they could do that. 

“...Good as new dear — can you go find Hermione? She needs to bring her luggage for Alastor,” Mrs. Weasley said hurriedly, sweeping up Ginny’s suitcase — which was anxiously stuffed with sweets and books — and bustled out the door. 

Just then, Ginny heard a shrill cry from underneath one of the countertops. Hermione’s cat had fit itself just between the narrow slit right between the bottom of the counter and the floor, wearing what looked to be a torn off leash and an uncharacteristic feral expression. 

Just as Ginny caught its eye, she froze, now realizing just how sharp Crookshanks’ teeth really were. But just before she could make her escape, the cat let another strangled cry, this time launching herself from her hiding place with surprising ferocity. 

For a second, Ginny hadn’t even registered Crookshanks claws digging into her face, still stupefied by how fast a cat who spent its days eating, sleeping, and casting ugly facial expressions could be.

“ARGH!” She screamed coarsely, noticing the dread coursing through her veins as she felt herself stumble over in slow motion. There was a loud crash as she tumbled to the ground and landed on her on the back of her head, her and Crookshanks now trying pulling each others’ fur and hair out.

“Ginny!” 

“Crookshanks!” 

She hadn’t even registered the door swinging open nor the swarm of voices that followed, only that it felt like a million years until she felt Crookshanks’ bristly fur off her face. 

“Oh God — Crookshanks! Ginny, I’m so sorry…” 

She cracked her eyes open to see Hermione, Harry, Sirius, Tonks, and her mum hovering over her and suddenly felt very embarrassed. 

“S’aight,” she murmured, ignoring her mum’s harsh attempts to cast the blood and deep grooves off her face. 

“Looks like your year’s starting off with a bang, Red,” Tonks said cheerfully, compared to the morbid expressions of Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. She plopped down on the floor right beside Ginny, her hair turning a bright bubblegum pink. “Luckily for you, Moody’s running a bit late today. Something ‘bout sleazy troublemakers looking suspicious.” 

“Honestly that man,” Mrs. Weasley muttered under her breath. “Condones a hooligan like Mundungus being on the Order but now decides to do his job just as we’re running late…”

Ginny swerved her head; Hermione was still trying to placate Crookshanks; Harry was incomprehensibly staring at the old grandfather clock, not seeming to be paying attention while Sirius was listening quietly with a quirked brow. 

“You alright there, Red?” Sirius finally asked. Tonks nickname seemed to have caught on. Ginny nodded miserably, too disgruntled to care about anything else other than the throbbing pain in the back of her head. He turned to Mrs. Weasley.

“Dung’s an old crook, Molly, but it takes one to know one, right? Besides, Dumbledore seems to think he’s pretty important,” he interjected, a hint of smugness hidden in his friendly smile. 

“Yes, well — he’s still untrustworthy, Sirius. We need people who’ll be here, not the ones who’ll end up landing up in Azkaban,” Mrs. Weasley huffed unwittingly, not noticing Sirius’ darkening expression. 

“Good as new dear. Anywhere else you got hurt?” She asked, prodding her previously broken. 

Just my dignity. 

Ginny tried to muster a bracing smile, although it came off as more of a grimace. “I’m fine, Mum — er, thanks,” she said, brushing the dust off her clothes as they got up. Fortunately, Hermione finally got Crookshanks in her cage, and Sirius was almost back to normal when Harry approached him. 

“You alright there, Gin?” Harry said openly as she tried to discreetly fix her tousled hair. She looked back at him with wide eyes. 

“Er… yeah, thanks,” she said, trying to sound distracted. She gave him a brief smile which he returned half-heartedly before stalking out, wearing the same irritable expression she often saw on Moody. Ginny frowned and touched her face in self-consciousness. Was it something she said? She always did have a knack for upsetting people…

“Don’t mind him,” Hermione’s voice cut through her thoughts. Ginny turned around and met her gaze. “He’s just upset he has to go to the station with a guard.” 

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Oh,” she said stupidly. “We do?”

Hermione nodded sagely. “Honestly though, I can’t understand why he’s upset. It’s a good thing that he’ll be safe — no one knows what You-Know-Who’s could be up to, it’s important we remain cautious.” 

Ginny shrugged. “I suppose it’s for the best and all, but I don’t think Harry’s the type who likes to be looked after, I guess,” she said.

Hermione furrowed her brow. “No one can afford to be prideful now,” she said simply. 

“I agree, but it’s still hard,” Ginny said, picking up one of Crookshanks’ toys and zipping open Hermione’s suitcase for her. The cat gave a loud yelp, and Hermione grimaced. 

“I really am sorry about Crookshanks. I just don’t know what’s gotten into him lately — he’s just so ill-tempered these days,” she said, throwing a scolding look toward him. 

Ginny grinned lopsidedly. “I was never good with pets — I accidentally lit Bill’s toad on fire when I was five. Crookshanks’ just smart.” 

Hermione smiled affably, although she did seem to sober up. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I’ve been far too distracted,” she said, looking a bit guilty. 

“Eh, I wasn’t the best roommate. Besides, I’m sure you have to worry about being Head Girl now that you’ve successfully obtained the position for the most brilliant prefect Hogwarts has ever seen— ”

“— Oh… shut up!” Hermione laughed, her face flushing. 

Ginny sighed dramatically. “What, am I wrong? Or… don’t tell me… Is Ron just a diamond in the rough — an ingenious mind waiting to be applied for something other than chess and that bloody broomstick?” 

Hermione burst into giggles, holding onto the countertop for support. “Ginny… you shouldn’t say — Ron’s very — when did you get so funny?’

Ginny smirked in satisfaction, feeling a warm sense of belonging. “I’m actually very charming, thank you very much,” she said, starting to build more and more confidence, “unfortunately I’m rather unremarkable within the sea of redheads in my family.” 

She laughed, but it was abruptly cut short when she saw the smile slip off Hermione’s face. 

“Ginny…” she started, suddenly looking very apprehensive. “You’re not…” 

“I know,” Ginny said loudly, plastering on a sickly-sweet smile. “I know — I was just joking.” 

Ginny tried to mimic her easygoing laughter from before, but the more she looked at Hermione’s guilt-ridden expression, the more suffocated she felt. Hermione was about the speak again, but before she could open her mouth, a succession of loud screeches reverberated through the kitchen.

“WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!”

“MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!”

Hermione jumped as though she was scalded and hurried out the room, casting a meaningful glance behind her, and Ginny, taking one last sweeping look around the old kitchen, walked through the old mahogany doors, the towering Voldemort-like figure Avada-kedavraing the horseradish decorations suddenly seeming incredibly prophetic. 

After a few minutes of pure chaos featuring Mrs. Black’s boundless vocal cords and a rather politely terse argument between Mrs. Weasley and Sirius, Ginny, along with Fred, George, and Remus Lupin, stood at the threshold, the latter ironically holding the most bags out of all of them. 

“Better hurry up now... the train will be here in a half-hour,” Lupin said wearily, clutching onto one of his jagged brown briefcases. Mr. Weasley stood at the back door with Ron and Hermione. 

“We should head out by now, Prefect’s are expected to be there on time, I think,” Ron said, unconsciously rubbing his already gleaming prefect’s badge. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise and smiled shyly, a rosy blush forming around her cheekbones. 

Ginny, Fred, and George glanced at each other and exchanged knowing smirks.

After a hurried explanation of how to reach the station from Mr. Weasley, the two parties departed, but despite the weather sunny and fresh and the relief of not having to spend another day in the doxy-riddled, portrait-screaming manor, the only thing Ginny was capable of doing was trudging along, feeling as if someone had whacked her on the head with a frying pan. 

They walked through a popular muggle-wizard park where a strange composition of people passed by; children gamboled in the grass; a few clusters of ladies wore powdered makeup Ginny had seen on Lavender Brown at the ball; fast-paced, bleakly-dressed business people walked briskly through the grand brick arch at the edge of the park, mobile phones attached to their ears. It would be only two more blocks from there to the platform, but Ginny wasn’t in much of a rush of leaving. 

She blended right in with the scene, her striking hair this time complementing the flower beds; it was, in fact, Fred and George who looked like they had two light ginger fires on their heads in the sunlight.

She smirked smugly. Usually it was the other way around. 

It was bizarre to see so many vivid colors burst through the streets, so many different types of people walking out and about in contrast to the solemn Aurors who stalked in and out of Order meetings. Ginny had never been particularly observant but now she almost felt like she was living nine different lives, from the florist who was sneezing in every different direction to a long-necked, bony woman who wore what looked to be a very stiff, anachronistic afternoon dress. 

She was so caught up in her surroundings that she almost didn’t notice Fred and George’s loud whoops of excitement as they entered the archway of King’s Cross. 

“No trouble?” Growled Lupin as they walked toward the group. 

“Nothing,” said Lupin. 

Ginny grabbed her two suitcases from the luggage cart with ease, standing next to Tonks and her Mum. 

“Well, look after yourselves,” said Lupin, shaking hands all round. He reached Harry last and gave him a clap on the shoulder. “You too, Harry. Be careful.”

“It’s been great meeting with you,” Tonks said, hugging Hermione and Ginny. When Hermione turned away to go speak to Mrs. Weasley, Tonks patted Ginny’s shoulder and leaned in, smirking. 

“I know Moody’s been all uptight about letters and all, but when you end up dumping this Irish bloke for Harry, let me know.” 

Ginny sighed and shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows in amusement. “Michael’s really nice, Tonks, and neither Harry and I like each other,” she said reasonably. It really was true. Ginny knew Harry had no feelings for her, and she never really thought of him in a romantic or even obtainable way in the past four years. It was mostly either envy or respect or gratitude or something else that was too far complicated for a fourteen-year-old to care about. 

She had already sent an equally giddy letter back to Michael, already accepting his offer. It wasn’t anything serious and they both knew it probably wouldn’t last the next three months, but there was still an unsteady air that made her grin goofily. 

Tonks shrugged. “Yeah, yeah. And Moody’s secretly an unregistered pygmy puff. Listen, kid, you have no idea how just how boring these meetings are and how many bloody romance novels I’ve gone through in the past six months. Just let me have this.” 

Ginny raised her eyebrow and surreptitiously peered at Harry, who was now waving at Lee with his large black dog. She sighed again and shrugged. “Eh, whatever. Just don’t complain when you get invited to the royal wedding of Harry Potter and Cho Chang,” she simpered. 

Tonks visibly shuddered. “Argh, don’t remind me of those heinous ceremonies. I swear to Merlin, you better not have a long wedding — three of my coworkers are already getting married with the magical rituals and everything. I mean — everyone likes to pretend that he is dead, and yet they’re still rushing to claim each other as if he’s going to fall from the sky at any moment with an army of dementors.” 

“Oh, you say that now,” Ginny said deviously. “But I bet when you and Lupin will get married, you’ll be eating your words…” 

A warning whistle sounded; the students still on the platform started hurrying onto the train. 

“Quick, quick,” said Mrs. Weasley hurriedly, hugging them at random and giving her a quick yet crushing hug. “Write… Be good… If you’ve forgotten anything we’ll send it on... Onto the train, now, hurry...” 

Ginny rolled her eyes in amusement at the chaos and swiftly got on the platform, smiling impishly at Tonks’ embarrassed glare. 

“Bye!” She called out from the open window, along with the chorus of “see you” and “good-bye!” from Ron, Hermione, and Harry. 

“He shouldn’t have come with us,” said Hermione in a hushed voice

“Oh lighten up,” said Ron, “he hasn’t seen daylight for months, poor bloke.” 

One of the bolts from Ginny’s suitcases unlocked, a conglomerate of chocolate and homework assignments spilling out. She swore under her breath and knelt down to pick them up, not noticing the conversation slowly tensing up. 

I’d rather — but we have to — I mean, I’m not enjoying it, I’m not Percy,” Ron said abruptly. Ginny got up and pushed the hair out of her eyes, looking around in confusion. 

“I know you’re not,” said Harry, smiling weakly. Ginny wrinkled her nose as Hermione and Ron lugged their things out of the compartment, before realizing seconds later that they were now prefects. Bloody hell. 

“Come on,” she said, filling the silence. “If we get a move on we’ll be able to save them places.”

Harry nodded absently and grabbed Hedwig’s cage before lugging his things out of the entrance space. They limped together down the hall, peering through the glass-paneled doors as they scanned for a compartment. The people looked back at them — more notable Harry, although she did receive quite a few inquiring looks — with a great deal of interest, often nudging the others in the compartment. Ginny grimaced inwardly as she remembered the Penelope Clearwater article. Her parents had canceled their newspaper subscriptions, but now she sort of wished she knew what were the mindsets of everyone else. 

There had been a strange silence between them — Harry looking bemused and slightly upset at the glares and murmurs from everyone else around them — and it felt like a miracle when they had finally met Neville at the very last carriage. 

He looked positively out of it; his short, mousy hair was resembling Harry’s, only frizzier and longer. In one hand, he clutched Trevor and his bulging suitcase, along with something Ginny vaguely recognized as a Mimbulus mimbletonia or something along those lines. 

“Hi Harry… Hi Ginny… Everywhere else’s full… I can’t find a seat…” 

“What are you talking about?” Ginny asked, looking over Neville’s shoulder to spot a full empty row. Squinting, she handed Harry her suitcases and squeezed past Neville, looking through the panel. 

“There’s room in this one… there’s only… Loony Lovegood in here?” She said, looking very puzzled. Inside was a blonde girl wearing a strange assortment of vegetables whilst reading some magazine upside down. Harry and Neville exchanged looks. 

“Loony Lovegood?” Harry asked, his eyebrows raised. Ginny wrinkled her nose. 

“Er… I think? Pretty sure she’s in my charms class and I did hear a few people call her Loony… but I dunno who would name their kid Loony — I mean, I guess people are trying to break out of the customs nowadays,” she said. “But anyways, why didn’t you go in?” 

Neville’s eyes darted to the floor as he hastily mumbled something about not wanting to bother anyone. 

“Don’t be silly,” Ginny said, fully remembering his absurdly shy nature during the ball. “She’s harmless.” 

She slid the door open and pulled her trunk inside it. The other two followed. 

“Er, hi… L-una, is it okay if we take these seats?” She asked, a memory of Flitwick taking attendance one day suddenly bursting through her mind. She exchanged sheepish looks with Harry and Neville. 

Luna looked up at her with the most startling expression, and Ginny was dumbfounded at how she didn’t even notice her. If there was a pair of eyes that flawlessly matched the set Celestina Warbeck often compared to the Draught of Peace, Luna Lovegood’s would have to be the most suitable candidate. Although her hair was straggly and dull, her eyes were some of the most luminous, scintillating ones she’d ever seen. She didn’t even notice her wand sticking protruding right in front of her ear, or her necklace of butterbeer caps. 

They all hastily sat down, Harry and Neville sharing a series of ‘what-the-bloody-hell-is-happening’ expressions — a common trend Ginny had been observing ever since she’d arrived at Hogwarts. 

Harry seemed to be now regretting taking the opposite seat of Luna, her Celestina Warbeck-like irises now penetrating Harry’s equally vivid narrow green eyes. Ginny huffed; her eyes were just a plain hazel. 

“Er, had a good summer, Luna?” Ginny asked, sensing the uncomfort Neville practically emanated off. 

After a moment of ringing silence, she finally said, “Yes,” in a dreamy voice without taking her eyes off Harry. “Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You’re Harry Potter,” she added. 

Neville chuckled, and she turned her pale eyes toward him instead. “And I don’t know who you are.” 

“I’m nobody,” Neville said almost instantly, and Ginny sighed wearily. 

“No you’re not,” she said firmly, flashbacks of the Yule Ball shifting through her mind. “Neville Longbottom — Luna Lovegood. Luna’s in my year, but in Ravenclaw.” 

“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” she sang in a high voice, raising up the magazine to cover her whole head. Harry and Neville looked at each other with surprise, and Ginny suppressed a giggle. This was going to be a far more interesting train ride than she thought. 

She hadn’t even thought about her odd dream until Neville decided to bring out his odd, lumpy plant. 

“... it’s got an amazing defense mechanism, hold Trevor for me.”

The top of Luna Lovegood’s head appeared over the magazine, watching Neville intently. Ginny glanced in her direction, but just before she could turn her head, something else had caught her eye. 

“Luna,” she said hesitantly, her eyes widening. “Your earrings…. They’re…”

“Horseradish — keeps me in contact with the dabberblimps,” she answered in the same casual, misty voice. “Oh, and I have some celery in my bag, I’m planning on using that as bait for the nargles. Would you like some?”

But before Ginny could form another coherent thought, a burst of slimy liquid squirted to every corner of the room. Luna simply raised the magazine over her head and Ginny was already facing away from the putrid substance. 

Neville looked utterly horrified as Harry, who was busy with containing Trevor, received a face full of the slime. 

“S-sorry,” he gasped. “I didn’t know it would so — Stinksap’s not poisonous,” he stuttered, as Harry spat a mouthful to the floor. 

Seconds later, the compartment door slid open to Cho Chang, whose hair was looking as straight and satiny as ever. “Oh… hello Harry,” she said nervously. Ginny looked up at her puffy eyes and quickly darted down, now feeling the mounting nightmare this year was going to be.

Harry wiped his lenses and looked up blankly at Cho Chang, who was now forcing a pretty smile. 

Ginny ran her hand through her hair and sighed; how come when she tried to smile, she resembled a snidget on fire. 

“Oh… hi,” he said awkwardly, looking supremely awkward. Cho laughed nervously and looked around the compartment in slight disdain.

“Well, just thought I’d say hello… bye then,” she said quickly, shutting the door and almost sprinting out. 

Harry slumped back in his seat and huffed, looking very dissatisfied with his surroundings. 

Ginny rolled her eyes and primly took out her wand, already feeling slightly dizzy from the horseradishes and celery. She didn’t have it in her to participate in the customary routine of awkwardness. 

“Never mind that,” she said bracingly. “Look, we can get rid of all this easily. Scourgify!” The Stinksap vanished instantly, and Ginny turned toward the window, where the sky was turning an inky black as they rode into the country hills. She brought her arms around her and rested her head against the window, already feeling fed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi everyone, sorry for the incredibly long author’s note last chapter. I just wanted to get a few details aside. Also, can any of you following the story tell me what you think? This is probably my fifth attempt at writing this story, and you guys need to tell me what you think! :D Now the story is really kicking off; honestly I feel like the last two chapters could’ve just been combined into one, but I think I’m just going to leave it as is it. Oh, and Ginny’s got hazel eyes. I don’t consider this out of canon, I just think it’s more fitting. Honestly, it’s not a very big detail; she still has primarily brown eyes, although sometimes it could look blue or grey (a mix of book Ginny and movie Ginny!) Oh, also, she got mauled by a cat :3… Poor Gin. And, by the way, our lovely Petunia actually got a cameo. Let me know if you spotted her. Anyways, happy new year, and I guess I’ll see you all later!

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Um… Hi, welcome to whatever this is. I’m not sure quite what happened here, only that this started when I picked up my laptop and randomly decided to type up a new chapter of some random plot point wreaking havoc in my mind for the past few months. Forgive me; words unfortunately don’t come easily to me. About the Weasleys forgetting Ginny’s birthday, well, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley aren’t the perfect parents, especially now with Voldemort coming back and a mountain load of stress sitting on their heads. I think that every child of the younger Weasley generation felt ignored at least once: Percy was pretty much the forgotten middle child, Fred and George were blatantly ignored when Molly talked about how now everyone was a prefect in their family, and, well, I think we all know about Ron’s struggles. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are good people, but nobody’s perfect, and it doesn’t help that Ginny barely makes an appearance. I also think that Ginny’s thoughts on Harry are more complicated than what people believe. I wouldn’t say she cares about his money or fame the same way Ron feels insecure about that, it’s more of a wistful admiration of his ability to be important and respected all the while staying grounded. Remember, most of the people she’s around all hold Harry in very high regards. People who dislike Ginny often say that she led a bunch of boys on while she was still pining over Harry, but I highly doubt that was the case at all. Well this is ridiculously long, so congratulations on making it here. Hopefully I’ll see you all later! :)


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